by Derek Slaton
Kersey let out an audible sigh of relief as they drove out of town, hitting a dirt road that would wind along the river to the south end of the rail yard.
Johnson hooted, startling everyone in the vehicle. “Fuck yeah! We fuckin’ got this!”
“Save your cheering for when we’re driving away on a train,” Baker muttered, but he couldn’t put a damper on the redneck’s excitement.
Kowalski lifted his radio to his lips. “Mason, we’re clear of town, copy?”
There was a pregnant pause, and everyone held their breaths.
“Copy, good to hear, buddy,” he came back, crackling a bit with some crunchy guitar riffs in the background. “We’re having a rave downtown.”
Kowalski laughed. “Copy that,” he replied. “We’ll touch base when we’re on a train. Head to the north end of town and try to circle back, got it?”
“Ten-four,” Mason replied, and then cranked the music back up to full volume before letting go of his receiver.
“If you take this road up, there’s a tourist tower where we can see the entire rail yard,” Bill said, leaning forward and pointing at the next crossroad.
Kersey nodded. “Good idea.” He turned up Homestead Road, stifling a bitter chuckle at the name. There was nothing about the apocalypse that felt like a homestead anymore.
The tower stood tall and proud overtop of a parking lot, with a tourist building attached to it, likely a gift shop. Kersey pulled into the parking lot and drove as close to the front door as he could. He turned around, and Bretz leaned forward to listen in.
“Baker, Kowalski, you’re with me,” Kersey said. “We’re going to take Bill up that tower and have a look at the rail yard. We’ll sweep the area and see if there are any threats, figure out how to neutralize them, and Bill will locate where we need to go to get the rig that he needs.
“Johnson, Bretz, keep your eyes and ears peeled, make sure there’s nothing lurking about. One of you stay in the driver’s seat in case we need to make a quick getaway. Everyone clear?”
There was a chorus of yessirs all around, and then Kersey nodded. He turned to the driver’s side door, peering out before opening it and hopping down to the asphalt. Bretz slid down into the driver’s seat from the sunroof, giving him a thumbs-up as he closed the door. Kowalski opened the back door to let Bill and Baker out, and Kersey touched the conductor’s arm.
“You stay between us at all times, understand?” the Sergeant asked firmly.
Bill rolled his eyes, and held up his gun. “I’m not exactly helpless, ya know?”
“You’re still not trained military,” Kersey shot back. “And you’re the only one who knows how to operate that train. So stay between us.”
Bill nodded in defeat, and let the men form a rough triangle around him, Kowalski in front. They knocked on the front door of the tourist building, to try to draw out anything from inside. A lone zombie staggered to the door, looking pretty loopy with a bashed in head.
“Apparently somebody didn’t finish the job,” Baker mused. Kowalski opened the door and immediately stabbed the corpse in the head, kicking it inside so it wouldn’t obstruct the doorway.
The quartet moved slowly through the area, which was a museum and gift shop combo, all the way to the back where the walkway to the Golden Spike Tower was. The glass-topped walkway was ominously quiet, but the encountered no resistance. Kowalski moved slowly but purposefully all the way up the spiral staircase inside, popping up into a large viewing area. It was easily the size of two conference rooms, with windows all along every wall. It was a panoramic view of the area, and showed them all of the rail yard.
“Clear,” Kowalski announced, and the other three emerged behind him. He crossed to the panels facing the southern rail yard, and slid open the window so he could rest his rifle on the sill and have a look through his scope.
“What have you got?” Kersey asked, coming up behind him.
The Private shrugged. “Nothing we can’t handle,” he replied. “Random stragglers around, none in groups of more than two. It doesn’t look like there are any pockets where there could be giant groups, aside from the warehouse buildings that I can’t see inside. But they look open, so I don’t know if there would particularly be anything trapped inside.”
“That’s good news,” Kersey replied with a nod. “Bill, do you want to take a look, see what we’re working with here?”
He stepped forward and Kowalski gently handed over the rifle. The older man peered through the scope, and swept around the large rail yard.
“There’s our girl,” he said quietly, and pulled back, pointing. “See the red engine over there with thirty-or-so cars behind it? We’d have to unlatch the majority of them, but that’s easy enough. It’s a diesel-electric, too, so better on fuel.”
Kersey looked through the scope to where he motioned, and nodded. “Looks good.” He turned to Kowalski. “I want you to monitor things from up here. Keep a bird’s eye view on what’s going on, if you see any big groups of zombies you give us a heads up. Don’t fire unless you have to, though, we don’t want to make too much noise before we get up and running.”
“Yes, sir,” Kowalski replied.
“Okay,” Kersey turned back to Bill. “Let’s get you in that train.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Bill directed Bretz from the backseat, driving slowly around the winding driveways to get to where they needed to be. Thankfully all of the tracks were lowered into the asphalt, so there wasn’t any trouble driving the SUV over them.
“That one,” Bill said, and pointed to the red engine car he’d spotted from the tower. Bretz pulled up right next to it.
“Baker, Johnson, you’re with me,” Kersey instructed. “Bill, you stay in the car with Bretz while we sweep the area and unlatch the extra cars.”
They dismounted the vehicle, guns at the ready, and checked around the train, listening hard for any moans or groans in the immediate vicinity. Kersey stepped up into the engine car, checking the driver’s area and the back engine room.
“Clear,” he said from the doorway as the other two came back around from the front of the train.
“Clear,” Baker replied.
Kersey stepped down and opened the back passenger door, letting Bill out. “Okay, what’s next?” he asked.
“I need to have a look inside, make sure everything is in working order,” Bill replied. “And check the fuel levels.”
“Is it possible to do all of that quietly?” Kersey asked.
“Yessir,” Bill said. “We’ll also need to check to make sure that only the cars we need are coupled. We don’t wanna drive away with a full train.”
“Baker and Johnson can take care of that,” Kersey replied. “You’ll just need to show them what to look for.”
“Okay, let’s do that first,” Bill agreed, and headed towards the back of the engine car.
They reached the coupling between the engine and the first box car, and Bill knelt down. “These claws are gripping each other, this means it’s attached. There’s a pin that goes in the top here, and the cord underneath is plugged in. Just pull the pin and rip out the cord and we’re good to go.”
“Got it,” Johnson replied, and Baker nodded.
“Okay, you two check the cars and make sure we don’t have any rail riders. And keep alert,” Kersey said. “Bretz, you stay out front of the engine car, keep an eye out. I’ll assist Bill where I can inside.”
The burly soldier nodded and led Bill back to the door, where he clambered up the stairs into the engine car. Kersey followed him, finding the relieved smile on his face a bit endearing.
“Happy to be back in action?” the Sergeant asked.
“Yes and no,” Bill replied honestly. “I did really love my job, and it was shit to be let go over something so stupid. And I always planned on getting back into the game someday, when the dust settled. Then the fuckin’ apocalypse happened, and I figured I was just going to die in La Crosse. It’s nice to be back in
here… but I definitely didn’t think that it would be under these circumstances.”
“Fair enough,” Kersey replied.
“I suppose I should be thankful,” Bill said with a shrug. “Now not only am I back doing my job, but I’m also not going to die in La Crosse. Maybe somewhere else, but definitely not in that shit hole.”
They shared a chuckle as Bill wandered along the engine. He whistled low in his throat, and muttered some specs under his breath that Kersey wouldn’t have understood anyway.
“Well, we’re definitely going to need fuel,” he said. “We won’t be able to get very far on this. I don’t want to bank on the refueling stations along the way being in working order. If we’re lucky, there should be fueling trucks in one of the warehouses.”
“If we’re lucky,” Kersey retorted. Had luck really been on their side all this time? He supposed a little bit, since they’d made it this far. But they’d lost a lot, too. And they weren’t in the clear yet. He walked to the doorway, peering at the nearest warehouse. “What are the chances there’d be one in that one?”
Bill stepped beside him. “Your guess is as good as mine, I ‘spose. If this were my operation, I’d have them in every building so they were accessible to every set of tracks. There are so many fuckin’ trains all over the place you’d think they’d want to be able to refuel from every direction.”
“Okay,” Kersey replied, and lifted his radio to his lips. “Kowalski, come in.”
“Loud and clear up here, sir,” Kowalski replied.
“We need to locate a fuel truck to fill up the train,” the Sergeant said. “They’re likely in one of the warehouses, but we’re hoping to make better time than combing every building. You see anything that might be useful?”
“Give me a sec, Sarge,” came the reply, and then a click.
Meanwhile, Johnson and Baker were checking the third car.
“Lookin good, broski,” Johnson said, using his knife hand to get back to his feet.
Baker rolled his eyes. “Where’d you get broski from—Mason?”
“Edwards, actually,” the redneck replied. “Sometimes when he was good and liquored up, he’d get all ‘bro’ with me.”
“Odd, considering how often he gave you a hard time,” Baker replied, a note of regret in his voice. He and Edwards hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but it still stung to know he was gone, and in such a manner.
“Yeah, well, booze brings people together,” Johnson said, pulling out his flask as they wandered down to the next car.
Baker chuckled as they approached the coupling, and then squinted. “All right, let’s get this bitch unlatched,” he said, and knelt down. He grabbed one end and reached up under the metal of the other car to feel around for the other side.
A snarl greeted him and he threw himself backwards, smacking his head off of the coupling itself.
“Shit!” Johnson hissed, dragging his comrade backwards as a zombie flopped around from behind one of the wheels. It looked like it didn’t have legs anymore, and wiggled like a fish as it tried to grasp its meal.
Johnson leapt forward, burying his knife in its head, silencing it. The two soldiers froze, listening, but there were no more moans or groans in the still air.
“You okay?” Johnson asked finally.
Baker nodded. “Yeah, thanks man,” he replied. “Fucker hiding down there.” He peered under the cars carefully before reaching up to grab the cables again. Once they were detached, he stood up and Johnson patted him on the shoulder, offering his flask.
Baker laughed and took a swig.
“Sarge, the warehouse behind the one closest to you has some open bay doors,” Kowalski reported. “It looks like there are a few trucks there. I think there are tanks on the back of them, but it’s hard to tell from my angle. That’s the best I got for you.”
“Ten-four, Kowalski, thanks,” Kersey replied. “Seeing any movement from up there?”
“Just a few stragglers here and there, nothing major,” the sniper said.
Kersey nodded. “Copy that,” he replied, and clipped the radio back to his chest.
Bretz appeared in the doorway. “You need me to go get one of those trucks, Sarge?” he asked.
“I’d much rather everyone travel in pairs,” Kersey replied. He switched to Johnson’s frequency and clicked the button on his radio once to signal that he wanted to talk without making too much noise in case they had to be stealthy.
“What’s up, Sarge?” Johnson replied.
“We need to go get a fuel truck from the warehouse to fill up the train,” Kersey explained. “What’s your ETA?”
There was a pause. “We’re about halfway down, probably fifteen or so to go?”
“You know I’ll be fine in here if I just close the door,” Bill piped up. “I’m just doing checks in here, Bretz will need you as backup much more than I will.”
Kersey pursed his lips in thought. Bill was right. And time was important. They had to be as quick as they could. Every second they wasted was one more second that Mason was in danger.
Bretz shrugged. “It’s your call, Sarge,” he said.
Kersey lifted the radio to his lips again. “Okay, be thorough but quick,” he instructed. “When you’re done get back here as fast as you can. I’m going to go with Bretz to retrieve the fuel, and Bill is going to close and bar the door. I’m leaving him with this radio, make sure to stay in contact.”
“Ten-four, Sarge,” Johnson replied.
Kersey turned to Bill, and unclipped the radio from his belt. “Keep that door barred, do not leave this train car, do you understand?”
“Ten-four, Sarge,” Bill replied with a smirk and a little salute.
Kersey shook his head and moved down the steps to join Bretz. They waited until Bill closed the door, and then got into the SUV. Bretz lifted his radio to his mouth.
“Kowalski, Sarge and I are headed to the fuel trucks,” he said. “Johnson and Baker are checking the couplings and then returning to Bill in the engine car.”
“Ten-four,” Kowalski replied.
Kersey drove out of their section of train yard back to one of the driveways, bustling around the multitude of tracks to circle around to the nearest warehouse. He swerved gently to the right to run over a staggering zombie, reveling in the crunch of its head beneath the tires.
He eased into the parking lot of the first warehouse, aiming for the maintenance road to the left. At the far corner, there was a cluster of bodies moving out from behind the back of the building, and Kersey slowed. They noticed the vehicle and groaned, tripping over themselves to run towards the vehicle.
He waited until they were about twenty yards away and then gunned it forward, smacking into them hard. Bodies flew, disoriented, and the soldiers drew their knives and hopped out of the vehicle, taking advantage of the stunned corpses to dispatch them.
As Kersey stabbed one in front of the car, another managed to get back to its feet and dove for him, shrieking. Bretz barreled into it, landing hard in the dirt, and stabbed it multiple times in the face. Both soldiers waited for a moment to make sure none of their friends were coming, and then got to their feet.
“Thanks,” Kersey said as he wiped his knife on his pants.
Bretz nodded. “No problem, Sarge.”
They got back in the SUV and drove over the enemy around the warehouse. Kersey nosed around carefully so they could take a look at the parking lot. There were a few cars and trucks strewn about, but no zombies.
They headed for the back warehouse, the bay doors open as Kowalski had reported. This one was smaller, with a maintenance area by the bay doors and the whole other side full of offices with glass walls. Bretz pointed as they got out of the SUV, jaw set.
“Looks like they had an outbreak on a workday,” he said, noting the zombies slapping against the glass. They all wore business attire, button-down shirts stained with crimson. Kersey shook his head.
“Keep on alert in case they manage to break through,”
he said. “Let’s check these trucks.”
They moved down the line of tanker trucks, sweeping behind them to make sure there weren’t any zombies lurking about. The first two were empty, much to their dismay.
Kersey leaned over to check the fuel gauge on the third truck. “This one is almost full,” he declared, and Bretz came around the back to join him. The Sergeant opened the driver’s side door, and felt around for keys. “No keys.” He sighed.
“Hey, Sarge,” Bretz said, motioning to the glass wall of zombies. Behind them, affixed to the far wall, was a big board full of keys.
“Of course,” Kersey replied.
They approached the offices, the zombies going even more crazy on the other side as their potential meals got closer to them. The soldiers surveyed the door on the far end, and then looked all the way down the row of cubicles to the other end.
“Okay,” the Sergeant said, “you head to the other side and bang on the glass, see if you can get them all to follow you. I’ll crouch down on the other side of that door and when you’ve got them all occupied I’ll run in and grab the keys.”
“Sure thing, Sarge,” Bretz replied, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Be safe.”
“Will do,” Kersey replied, and jogged over to the door.
Some of the zombies attempted to follow him, but as he crouched down and Bretz began to knock on the glass, they got distracted quickly. The burly soldier tapped on the glass, running along the wall and sneering at the corpses trying so hard to get to him.
“Fuckin’ murdering shits,” he muttered, drumming out a beat on the last glass panel to keep them all occupied.
Kersey crept to the door and pushed it open silently, closing it gently behind him. He stayed low as he ran to the back wall, and ran his hands over the key rings. There were four that bore the same emblem as the fuel truck, so he stuffed those into his pockets, and ducked down to stay out of sight for the way back.
As he passed one of the cubicles, a body fell out of it and smacked into him, knocking him clean over. He smashed into a water cooler and it fell over, causing an epic clatter on the tile floor. Kersey jumped to his feet and tore for the door as the zombies decided that he was more interesting than Bretz. He grasped the handle and pulled, throwing himself out and jerking the door shut behind him.